Go Ask Mom
by Hoosier Mama
Summary: The story of an addict. An essay written for "Defining Twilight" contest. Required to have used 8 words: erratic, noble, inconsequential, sauntered, omnipresent, exiled, permanence, and detested. Humorous, Non-fiction.


Go Ask Mom

I am an addict. My daughter's a pusher.

For months she pushed and I relentlessly shoved.

"You'll love it," she whispered, evil glinting in her eyes.

"Noooo!" I moaned, my head thrashing from side to side. "Keep it away from me."

"You know you want it." She was tantalizingly sly. "You want to experience what everyone's talking about."

How well she knew me. I detested disappointing her; but she didn't know the obsessive monster her persistence would unleash. I tried to explain my apprehension.

"You don't understand," I cringed, head in my hands. "I can't do it. I'll be euphoric. Time will lose all meaning. I'll need to experience it over and over until…I'll only truly exist when I'm in the zone."

"The zone?" she asked sharply.

"Yes," I explained, glancing furtively around me as I whispered, "the _Twilight_ zone."

"You're kidding me right? Or are you seriously losing it?

"I know it will happen. I've heard the other moms talking." I motioned for her to come closer. She looked at me skeptically. I was fervent in my reply. "First you read the books; then you can't stop rereading the books. The movie is seen repeatedly. Moronic remarks from the DVD cast commentaries get memorized. Precious hours are wasted on _Twilight_ fan sites. More time is wasted deciding which photos of Robert Pattinson are the hottest."

My fists clenched and I became slightly hysterical. "You, your brother and your dad will despair of ever eating a home-cooked meal while I am exiled from the kitchen by my own addiction. The look and smell of a clean house will be a memory from a vaguely recalled past. I'll enter bizarre essay contests that require the usage of eight specific yet inconsequential words. My mind will wander, my work erratic, as my boss ponders how best to put an end to my tenuous career."

"But it's such a good read," she cooed.

I knew it would be. I knew I would love it. But was I ready for the mind-altering obsession caused by reading a certain young adult series of books? Could I handle an addiction to…_Twilight_?

Eventually, the inevitable occurred; I caved.

My daughter had help in her attempt to corrupt me: my own klutziness. I fell, breaking my foot. It was fate. I was immobilized and bored; my daughter's omnipresent copy of _Twilight_ called to me; I could no longer resist its pull. Reality ceased to matter. I devoured it. I was hooked. Everything the moms predicted would happen actually came to pass, along with one unanticipated development:

I fell in love with Edward Cullen.

(Shhh. My husband doesn't know.)

My _Twilight_ obsession lasted longer than I care to admit. For months I sauntered into establishments buying books…that still haven't been read. I couldn't read a new book because I couldn't stop rereading _Twilight_. The un-cracked-open bestsellers are still stacked up on my nightstand like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. I am now living under a spouse-imposed moratorium on book buying until the weight on my nightstand is reduced to its normal load bearing maximum.

Luckily, I have found a cure for my _Twilight_ addiction. It's called _Twilight_ fan fiction or fan fic for short. The love fans have for the characters created by Stephenie Meyer is immeasurable; Edward and Bella have been reincarnated a hundred different ways in funny, angst-filled, romantic stories.

Unfortunately, in its ability to gobble up free time, the cure is worse than the sickness. There are innumerable stories to read and with new stories constantly being written, an addiction to fan fiction could easily be never-ending. The possibility of the permanence of this newest _Twilight_ addiction gives my family the willies. They fear my final request will be: bury me with my laptop…but first make sure there's internet access.

I longed to share these stories; unfortunately my noble but misguided daughter refused to read any. I was a _Twi_-addict because of her; yet she never took _my_ reading advice, even when I pushed.

I tried sincerity. During our nightly jog, I asked her politely to read a fan fic where Bella can't touch anyone, bakes cookies everyday and she and Edward have horrible nightmares that keep them from sleeping.

She was sincere in her reply. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and changed the subject.

I tried subtlety. "I think I can finally understand why someone would want multiple piercings and tattoos."

My daughter looked up hopefully. "Really? Why the sudden change of heart?"

Unfortunately, I responded with noticeable excitement. "I'm glad you asked. I'm reading this fan fic where Edward's a tattoo artist in Chicago with a really messed up past and Bella…"

"No mom. I'm not reading it."

I tried stealth. I stuck post-it notes all over the family computer screen singing the praises of a wickedly witty fan fic with more pop cultural references than an episode of _The Gilmore Girls_. I included the information needed to find it on the web. Below this I had written in the language of her people, "IMHO, you'll love it. I didn't just LOL, I positively LMAO!"

Crumpled up post-it notes littered the computer room floor, ignored.

I quit pushing when I realized it's better that she not succumb to the fan fiction addiction. She's starting her first year of college next month; the last thing she needs is to be obsessively reading fan fiction all hours of the night.

I feel sorry for myself when I remember I'll be going to watch the midnight showing of _New Moon_ alone, my pusher and all of her friends away at college.

With that in mind, I cornered my 16-year old. "Since your sister is leaving home soon, how would you like to read _Twilight _and make your mom incredibly happy?"

He looked at me as if I had suddenly grown a second head and a third arm.

If I've learned one thing from _Twilight_, it's this:

Addicts make lousy pushers.


End file.
